


Whispers On The Wind

by rubydragon16



Series: Point Of No Return [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Haru's POV, Internal Conflict, Introspection, M/M, POV Male Character, Pining, Post-Series, Regrets, Romance, Running Away, newbie writer, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubydragon16/pseuds/rubydragon16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some moments that are just too painful to describe…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers On The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> ~A sincere heartfelt thank you in advance to all those who will take the time out of their lives to read this newbie’s first attempt at writing fanfiction for the wonderful ship that’s MakoHaru. I haven’t written fanfiction in over ten years, so I’m a bit rusty! AND it’s my first time writing for this fandom, so I apologize if my characters seem a bit OOC. Still, I hope I have done it justice and that fans of FREE~ will appreciate it all the same-~

_Will I ever forget?_

_Can I ever correct?_

_My moment of regret?_

He had to get away. He didn’t know how long he could survive there, before the reality of the incident would crush him, suffocate him, and then drown him. It was so difficult to breathe; the presence of so many around him was torment. Everything and everyone seemed to be a haunt, a taunt, of the loss…the moments lost… as easily as slipping through the fingers like sand… And each time the thought hit him, he knew he’d fall apart…

So Haruka ran. He ran as fast as he could and as far away as his legs could take him. Even if he knew his speed on the ground was embarrassingly low compared to his movements in the water, his feet wouldn’t stop moving. Not until he could erase the sympathetic gazes from strangers; not until he could ignore his friends’ anxious calls of concerns, as he rushed past the guests, afraid that if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Not until he could forget the pain and grief on the people he’d come to call his second family, not until he could remove the ache that was stabbing his chest. Like a knife that pierced him continuously, refusing to grant him a shred of peace. Those unwavering looks, their hushed tones, the muffled sighs, the whispered condolences, whispering…without suggesting…

For in their sympathetic gazes, Haru read it all and saw it all. The unspoken blame or was it genuine concern? He didn’t know for sure; just that it was the truth. And the truth was something he couldn’t accept. His feet guided him away from the sadness, the pain, the hurting. To where? He didn’t know and didn’t care. All he knew was at that instant, in this moment, he needed to be free.

His legs finally gave out on him, or maybe his heart had grown tired, he didn’t know for sure. Taking deep breaths and gasping for air, he bent down on his knees, trying to regain his composure. The world spun around him, the wind choking him, pulling him under, enveloping him in darkness, as he shut his eyes to calm his tormented nerves.

  _‘Breathe,’_ he instructed himself silently. He inhaled deeply as he steadied his breathing. He would have thought that being a swimmer, his lung capacity would be on a whole other level, but nothing felt right with him at this time. His throat was tight, his mouth dry, his eyes burned, but he endured it. He _had_ to endure it. He slowly stood upright and opened his eyes. And he blinked with a start.

_‘Breathe,’_ Haru repeated softly, as his heart rate calmed down.  He blinked again when he saw where he’d ended up, although it didn’t faze him much. The chilly breeze nipped at his ear, as he felt a strong gust of wind strike his face. He pushed wisps of his hair away from his eyes, as he looked ahead. Why wouldn’t he be here of all days? The ocean stared back at him, blinking with the memories of moments that he’d treasured so importantly and discarded so carelessly. Of walks along its shore, of late night dips, of moonlit caresses, of spoken promises, of happy laughs, of heartfelt goodbyes- Yes, why **wouldn’t he** find himself at the ocean, at Iwatobi, of all days? It seemed fitting-and it seemed heartbreakingly tragic. Something wet suddenly grazed his face, interrupting his thoughts.

Was it his tears? Sweat? Gingerly, he fingered the stray drop that had stained his cheek. He looked up at the threatening dark clouds looming over head. It cast a bleak atmosphere over the shore, generating chasms in the usual calm waves of the ocean, which were only too eager to erupt any minute.

**‘Even the heavens weep.’**

_‘And why shouldn’t they?’_ Haru thought remorsefully burying his hands deep into his pockets, in a futile attempt to fight the chilly breeze. On this day, unlike any other day, why shouldn’t the world be shrouded in stormy clouds, fierce winds, and impending rain? The world was desolate, uneventful, hopeless, empty... Today of all days-

_‘Don’t say it,’_ he pleaded with himself, shutting his eyes tightly in a fierce attempt to hide the words, hoping against hope it could somehow deny the truth that he so eagerly wanted to forget.

Repeating it…

Admitting it…

Acknowledging it would only make it real…

**_And life without Makoto didn’t seem real._ **

“Makoto,” the name escaped his lips effortlessly as if he could reach out and touch him. As if Haru cautiously opened his eyes a bit wider, he would see that messy brown hair, deep emerald eyes, muscular physique, slowly materialize in front of him; he’d look longingly at him, with that simple gentle smile that seemed to brighten up his entire world. As if he’d been waiting for him at this very spot, which would explain the reason why he’d been led here. He took a small step forward. The desire to touch him pulsated strongly within him, only to have his body resound painfully with the steel rail set up near the edge of the sandy shore, as his outstretched hands grasped nothing--nothing but the wind.

  _‘How can you catch the wind?’_ Haru wondered gloomily, wincing a bit from the jolt he’d received. His heart hurt as the realization that he would never again see that face washed over him once more.  He gripped the metal fence tightly, and gritted his teeth sharply, hearing in the far off distance, the faint rumble of thunder. The ocean’s deep blue slowly churned into a fierce azure, followed by a few waves dangerously rolling towards the coastline. Any minute it would be harmful to be out here, but he could have cared less. For him, nothing mattered any more. Time itself was meaningless.

_‘How could something like this have happened?’_ he thought bitterly. _To someone like Makoto? ’_ To someone so beloved by his family, worshipped by his siblings, admired by all his teachers, adored by Nagisa, respected by Rei, valued by Rin, loved by…

_Love. Love. Love. That one word. The bane of his existence. The cause of his demise. The root of his grief._ If he had the chance to go back in time, Haru would seize that opportunity without a second’s hesitation. A chance to erase that mistake that cost him so much; that one slip of uncertainty that could change everything for him. He leaned both elbows on the railing, ignoring the howl of the wind, wailing loudly. The sky had turned a dusky brown, the kind that was imminent before a storm.  His senses instructed him to leave, before the weather turned even more precarious, but he ignored the warning bells. His mind was lost in the shambles of the incident that he wished he could forget forever. And yet he knew it’d be one he’d remember for eternity. That fateful last night as if…

**_As if it never should have happened…_ **

**_As if it was a moment between two people that wasn’t them…_ **

**_As if even the fates were against the two of them…_ **

~*~*~*~*~

**The stars were _not_ in his favor that day…**

Haru was not in a good mood. Practice had seemed even more grueling and strenuous than before. Add to that, his coach seemed slightly more miffed with him than usual, claiming that his performance in the water was sloppy and erratic. Like his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe that was slightly true, considering he was distracted by the thought that Makoto would be returning from his internship after a week long absence. It had slightly irritated him that Makoto hadn’t suggested that he tag along, but since they had decided to keep their relationship still rather private for the time being, he’d understood. Or he’d thought he had. He had figured Makoto’s classmates would have reacted strangely if he’d accompanied them on their trip, even if he **WAS** Makoto’s childhood friend.

Even so, Haru had spent a rather lonely time without him, as much as he would care to deny it. He could have visited Iwatobi and spent some time with Rei and Nagisa, especially since Rin was also visiting from Australia for the holidays, but he’d chosen not to. Rather he’d spent the entire time sulking, when he knew he should have channeled his emotions elsewhere. So, it was clear to say that he was eager to see Makoto after having spent seven whole uneventful days without him. Plus, since Makoto’s counselors had insisted on a cell phone free environment to ensure the best results of the students’ training, Haru counted the seconds till his arrival.

 But strangely, a small part of him still harbored a slight grievance against Makoto for not spending time with him, instead. It wasn’t Makoto’s fault that he’d had to leave the city. Just like it wasn’t his fault that they’d finally entered the stage of ‘more than just friends,’ he supposed. It was ridiculous for him to be behaving this way, but he couldn’t shake off that small annoyance, no matter how hard he tried. He’d never seen himself as the possessive jealous type; wasn’t he the one who believed in Makoto’s hope to train children? Hadn’t he been the one who’d encouraged and even supported his decision? So, why couldn’t he shake off this unsettling feeling?  It was clearly affecting his performance; hence the half-hour lecture directed to him by his coach, insisting that he had more potential than he’d displayed, and that ‘he was very disappointed in him’ and ‘he can only hope that you will learn to take this seriously’.

All Haru ever was, was serious. _‘Didn’t they know that by now?’_ Still, after his training _finally_ ended, he headed home, hoping to settle down in a warm bath, and soothe his senses, before Makoto arrived. Later that evening, while changing in the lockers, Makoto had texted him, indicating that he’d returned home. He hadn’t said much; simply that he’d be dropping by soon, hadn’t said when, just that he was looking forward to see him.

Somehow, Haru didn’t feel as if he shared those sentiments. _‘Which was odd,’_ he thought, as he entered his apartment. He’d spent the whole weekend moping without his presence, and now he wished for nothing better that Makoto didn’t come around. A dark aura seemed to be engulfing him, and he wasn’t sure he could face Makoto’s ray of sunshine attitude that he always carried with him. He was tempted to message back and say that he had plans tonight **(which he obviously didn’t)** and that he’d catch up with him tomorrow. But, he didn’t.

After taking a warm bath, in an attempt to calm his nerves or even relax his agitated self **(which it failed to do)** and eating a morsel of a meal **(when he clearly didn’t have any appetite)** Haru heard a knock at the door. He rose almost reluctantly off the kitchen chair, and went to answer it. His heart seemed to be pounding uncharacteristically loud, its vibrations echoing in his ears, as he unlocked the door. He knew it was Makoto; who else would show up at his doorstep after 9 pm? Then, why did he have this gnawing feeling that everything was about to go downhill the minute he turned the knob?  

Haru showed have paid more attention to the signs; perhaps things could have ended up differently. He _had_ sensed something was off with Makoto when he finally entered through the door. He looked agitated even distracted, the minute Haru opened the door to let him, not bothering to greet him, but instantly meeting his lips with his, almost crushing it, as if searching for some relief, some comfort. Haru’s warning bells were ringing that something wasn’t right, but he brushed it off, reminding himself that when Makoto would want to share with him what was troubling him, he would. He, himself, was harboring **A LOT** of pent-up frustration, equally mirroring Makoto’s sudden burst of desire. He completely forgot his annoyance with Makoto’s departure, as his tongue hungrily coaxed his mouth open, yearning for more. Haru was more than willing to yield to his demands.

He wrapped his arms around Makoto’s neck, standing slightly on tip-toe to reach his lips, losing himself entirely in his touch, making him forget all sense of reason, as he allowed himself to be guided backwards against the couch. He stumbled rather unceremoniously onto it, but didn’t bother to break the kiss as he contently closed his eyes, and relished the sweet taste of chocolate he tasted on Makoto’s tongue. He felt him throw off his sports jacket, still pressing his lips against his, in an almost fervent and desirable way that, no matter how many times they’d kiss, it would take Haru’s breath away. No matter how many times he swam, when he would resurface, it was nothing compared to the feeling he’d receive when he’d pull away from Makoto’s lips…And if he could, he’d never break away, holding him close to him for as long as he could…

“Haru,” Makoto’s breathy voice tickled his lips, finally pulling apart to rest his forehead against his, to catch his breath. Lazily, he trailed almost feather-light kisses down his cheek, before nestling in the crook of his neck. “Perfect,” he murmured softly more to himself than to Haru, “just perfect,” he continued, his voice full of want and feeling, so much that it felt as if it could completely overpower him.

Haru sighed and tilted his head back against the sofa, his one hand trailing idly up Makoto’s firm shoulder blades. He’d forgotten how it felt to be this relaxed…so at peace…so at home. His arrival seemed to wipe away any negative thoughts he’d been slowly gathering since he’d left, only to be replaced with a warm fuzzy feeling that could only be described as pure contentment. They stayed like this for awhile, the silence embracing them, before Makoto finally broke the stillness.

“Haru-chan, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you,” he whispered almost a muffle, still buried deep in Haru’s collar. As always, it sent a tingling sensation through Haru’s body to have him speak so closely into such a sensitive spot. “Something I’ve wanted to say for some time now.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled in response, not bothering to open his eyes, as he carelessly ran his hand through Makoto’s mussed-up hair, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo.

**_‘Clearly he’d had plenty of time to shower before coming over to his place,’_** a thought abruptly occurred to him. **_‘Why did that seem to irk him rather than please him?’_ ** the thought continued in a nagging tone.

_‘And drop the –chan.’_

“I love you, Haru.”

He felt his entire body stiffen; he cautiously opened his eyes, the weight of the words sinking into him. The statement seemed to shatter all coherent senses of Haru’s contemplative thought. A whole flow of emotions seemed to swell inside him, as he took in the gravity of his words. For with those words, his mind and heart were about to begin an inner battle that would change the rest of his life…

_‘Why was this coming as such a shock to him?_ ’ he wondered strangely. His hands had stopped moving. They’d been together for so long, wasn’t this obvious? Inevitable? Undeniable? Understood? Was it **ALWAYS** necessary to put feelings into words? Didn’t Makoto already know how he felt about him? He found himself unexpectedly tongue-tied, as he sat there on the couch, uncertain of how to comment.  That small irritation he’d been experiencing towards Makoto suddenly found its way back, creeping its way back into his heart.

_‘Stop it,’_ his heart commanded him firmly. _‘Don’t be a spoiled child. Don’t make this worse.’_ But his mind ignored it, crushing all sense of rationality.

“Oh,” he found his lips moving for him, having no control over his actions.

_‘Stop,_ ’ his heart begged him fervently. _‘Please…’_

**“Oh?”** Makoto echoed slowly, abruptly pulling away from him. He gave him a long look, almost as if critiquing him. “Oh?” he repeated again, this time with a slight edge in his tone. His usually calm green eyes had turned a dark olive color, as they narrowed themselves at Haru. He’d never seen Makoto uncharacteristically perturbed. Maybe this was how he looked like in those situations.

Haru stared back at him blankly, completely forgetting that a few seconds ago, Makoto had been the source of electricity pulsating throughout his entire body, sending shivers up his spine at the faintest touch, and testing the very boundaries of his ability to breathe without air. That was Makoto; Makoto who was saying the one phrase not yet uttered between them, despite the fact that perhaps he’d felt this way, since for as long as he could remember.

**Ah _yes,_ the stars weren’t in his favor that night.**

 “Isn’t there something you’d like to say?” Makoto continued, his eyes still narrowed, his one eyebrow raised questioningly. The hint of remorse was evident in his tone; Haru could feel it overflowing into him. Yet, he didn’t know why his mind was ignoring his heart. A part of him, unknown to him, wanted Makoto to feel hurt, the way he’d felt without him. It was one lousy week, why was he stressing the matter? This wasn’t right; this wasn’t who he was. He wouldn’t do that to Makoto; the one he-

_‘Why are you doing this to him? Don’t do this,’_ his heart implored, but his mind scoffed it off, savoring his anguish _._

_‘What’s wrong with you?’_ the question weighed down on him heavily, but he had no answer.

“Makoto, I-” again he found himself at a loss of words, as he searched Makoto’s face, desperately hoping that he would read the signs. That he wasn’t in control of his words; that he’d caught him at a bad time; that he didn’t mean what he said…

_‘Wasn’t he the one who knew him better than anyone? Couldn’t he always read what was on his mind? Who didn’t need him to speak every little thing out loud? Understand his emotions? Wasn’t he Makoto’s Haru? Haru’s Makoto?’_

“I, what?” Makoto pressed, getting up forcefully, and standing up, so his 6’1 frame towered over Haruka; like a tower Haru could never scale no matter how he tried right now.

_‘Say something,’_ his heart urged insistently. _‘Stop this. You know you feel the same way. Why are you doing this to him?’_

“I don’t know,” he finally managed to say aloud, more to himself than at Makoto.

_‘NO, it’s not meant at you,’_ his heart cried out, reaching out to his hurt reaction, his pained expression, his heartbroken look, but Makoto couldn’t see it. He couldn’t reach it, through his ache.

_‘No, it’s not meant for you.”_ His heart was sending one signal, but his body was receiving another.

You don’t know?” Makoto repeated incredulously, looking at him, as if he were seeing him for the first time. His eyes had returned to that jungle green that twinkled even when there was no light reflected in them, when Haru would wake up and find him looking at him, just looking, never speaking, because in his eyes was everything he never had to say. But, right now, his eyes only spoke of the intentional pain Haru was causing. And he couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t know what to say,” Haru heard himself reply as if were merely a far-away echo.

_‘You know that’s not true. It’s not true, Makoto, listen to my heart, not my voice, Mak-’_

“You don’t know,” Makoto reiterated again unbelievingly, this time almost hoping that Haru would counter him; that it was all some terrible mistake.

_‘Please stop repeating me.’_

Makoto waited for Haru to add something else to his previous statement, but when he saw it was pointless, he sighed, a tired heavy sigh, and turned away from him.

“You know, Haru,” he began, almost bitterly, yet with a hint of mockery, “I _may_ always know what you’re thinking, even what you’re going to say, but sometimes-” he paused, and turned to face him, his eyes glistening with the trickle of a tear-

 “Sometimes I wish you would say what I wanted to hear,” he hesitated-- then, “without me having to say it for you.”

Haru stared back at him; there was so much he felt that he should say to this statement, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Was he scared? Nervous? He couldn’t understand. He lifted a hand to try and touch him; but the words died on his lips. _‘You don’t mean that. Tell him you don’t mean that.’_

**_‘Let him go…you don’t care for him that way—‘_ **

_‘Where are you going? No, please don’t go,’_ his heart yearned to speak, but his voice defied him.

He watched as Makoto put on his jacket, through those arms that would protectively comfort him in the depths of night, and then disappear into sleeves that fit just right. He saw that strong back turn away from him, almost trembling, as if resisting the urge to break down over the thought that the person he’d known almost his entire life, didn’t feel the same way as he did.  Avoiding Haru’s gaze, Makoto headed for the door, before Haru finally reclaimed his voice.

“Don’t go,” he finally managed to crack out. When had his mouth become so dry?

  _‘Please don’t go. Not right now,’_ his heart entreated achingly, hoping he’d hear it. He **had** to have heard his heart. He _must_ have…

Makoto looked back at him, his expression empty. “Give me one reason why I should,” he whispered almost-hopefully, his hand stopped expectantly on the doorknob. His eyes bore into his, searching for some reassurance, some hint of a hope.

_‘Why are you hurting him? Say it…before it’s too late. Why aren’t you admitting it? When had those eyes ever shone so brightly?’_

**_‘Let him go…’_** the voice taunted. For the third time that night, Haru found that he was speechless.

Makoto smiled ruefully when he realized Haru wasn’t going to respond the way he’d desired. He opened the door, but paused one final time, then spoke, without turning back to face him.

“Haru-chan,” he started under his breath, his tone heavy with raw emotion, “I just realized something.”

He stepped out, that beautiful body of a man, inching further away from him. He stood in the entrance, as if debating whether to stay or not, but his next words decided it for him.

**“Maybe I was the only one who thought we were in love.”**

And then he was gone, his words lingering before fading away… as if it had been a whisper in the wind.

Haru sat there, hearing his retreating footsteps slowly become fainter and fainter. His mind and heart were in such a conflicted battle with each other, that he couldn’t fully grasp the meaning of his last statement. What had just happened? How could Makoto think that way? Didn’t he know how much he cared about him? Were all their years of friendship all for naught? Hadn’t he shown him time and time again how he felt for him? With every waking moment, with every passing hour, Makoto was…

_‘Why didn’t you tell him then?’_ his heart scolded.

**_‘Because it’s not true,’_** his mind retorted.

_‘Yes, it is,’_ it countered. _‘Speak before the moment passes.’_

**_‘Ignore it,’_** his mind replied, **_‘All you need is water.’_**

_‘You NEED Makoto.’_

**_‘You need no one.’_ **

_‘Makoto NEEDS you.’_

**_‘Makoto never cared about you.’_ **

_‘He loves you, Haru.’_

**_‘Really?’_ **

_‘You love him.’_

**_‘No.’_ **

_‘Yes.’_

**_‘No.’_ **

“I love you, Haru,” echoed in his ear. The words played over and over in his head: a yell, a scream, a shout, and then a mumble, a murmur, a whisper…

“I love you,” the realization swept over him, as he gripped the edge of the couch tightly.

“Makoto,” his voice trembled. “I-” he needed to say it. Why had he hesitated the first time? Was it too late? Would his words reach Makoto in time? Had he betrayed his voice, his heart for so long? Makoto, I love you. His heart beat faster, as every part of his body lit up, as if on fire. The words were so simple, and yet why had he never said them before? Why had neither of them expressed it till now? With a flash, he leaped off the couch and flung open the door, desperate to stop him before he left.

 “Makoto!” he shouted frantically, anxious to make it in time; but-- Makoto’s car taillights faded away, tires screeching as it turned the corner, and drove away into the stillness of the night. The chance was gone; he sighed deeply and leaned heavily against the doorway.

‘Too late,’ he thought regretfully. ‘Why had he acted like such a jerk? Makoto didn’t deserve it. Why had he made him wait for so long?’

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he berated himself, angrily hitting his forehead with his fist. He brought his fist to his lips. “What should I do?” he wondered aloud, slightly trembling. “What should I do?”

_‘Tell him the truth,’_ his heart guided him, almost as if it were a scold for his brash behavior earlier. _‘Right the wrong.’_

_‘Before it’s too late.’_

Instinctively, Haru pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and was about to call him, when the thought him.

_‘Would it be right to confess over the phone?’_

He didn’t want it to be over the air waves; if anything he would want to spend the rest of his life, saying it over and over to Makoto’s face, just so he could make him forget the pain he’d caused him that night.

_‘No, definitely not over the phone.’_

But, he **HAD** to tell him tonight; if he didn’t, he was sure things would be even harder to address the next morning. He wasn’t sure that he could trust his voice at the moment, though; he was also worried that Makoto might NOT want to hear from him right now. So,

“I’ll text him,” he firmly decided aloud. His hands shook as he typed the message; afraid that Makoto may be too hurt to call back; worried that the message would not be enough to express his feelings; hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be too late to share his sentiments. If only he hadn’t been such a stubborn idiot and behaved so childishly, Makoto wouldn’t have left. If only-

**Makoto,**

**I’m sorry. Please come back. There’s something I have to tell you.**

**Haru**

After a deep breath and a brief uncertain pause, he clicked the button. ‘Message sent,’ glared back at him, as he placed the phone onto the kitchen table. He prayed silently that Makoto hadn’t driven away too fast, in an attempt to get away from him as quickly as possible. He still remembered the look of elation on Makoto’s face when he’d been gifted the car from his parents on his 20th birthday. How Ren and Ran had clung to him, insisting that he drive them first, before anyone else. How Makoto had glanced back at him apologetically before promising him to give him a ride next. They had taken an aimless drive through the city after that, and then spent some quality time in the back seat. Despite the situation he was in, Haru felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile at the recollection. His only hope was that Makoto would turn back soon so he would have the chance to spend that time together again.

So, Haru waited. And he waited. And he waited for so long, he lost track of the time after a while. He sat down at the kitchen table, anxiously shifting the phone back and forth between his hands. Haru was half-tempted to call him, but he opted against it. Perhaps Makoto was too upset to get to his phone; maybe the message tone was silent; maybe he didn’t have his phone on him. No, Makoto **ALWAYS** had his phone with him; responsibility was his strong suite. Haru didn’t want to appear too desperate or eager; but he kept glancing at his phone for some response. Still that irritating thought kept hitting him in the back of his mind.

**His head hurt. He’d hurt Makoto. He’d hurt Makoto for no reason. And his heart hurt because of it.**

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to an hour. And time slowly passed, before Haru fell asleep, only to be awoken by the sound of the phone ringing in his ears. His head had fallen onto the kitchen table, thus earning him a very uncomfortable cramp in his neck. Funny, how not awhile back, Makoto had been tainting it with soft airy kisses.

Makoto… His senses kicked into alert, as he received the call hurriedly, anxious to hear his voice.

“Makoto?” he asked breathlessly.

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line; he thought for a moment he’d hung up.

“…Haru.”

_Definitely not Makoto._

“Rin-” Why was Rin calling him at-he glanced at the clock on his phone-he blinked, confused. 12:43 am?

“Rin, why are you calling me now?” he asked curiously. _‘Hang up so Makoto can call.’_

“Haru, I-” Rin’s voice faltered, as if he was struggling to find the right words. Haru sensed the wavering in his tone, and he sat up slowly, all drowsiness erased.

“Rin, what is it?” he pressed this time a little more persistently. “What’s wrong?” He felt a strange panicky feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

 “Haru, I-” Rin again began, but paused, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “Haru, I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” His heart felt heavy with each word Rin spoke. The air around him seemed to be closing in around him, and he felt the strong urge to swim, to release his emotions. The uncomfortable sensation seemed to be growing larger, more evident, as he clutched the phone tighter to his ear.

_‘What’s going on?’_

“Tell me WHAT?” he repeated more urgently.

A pause. A silence that seemed to stretch for eternity and it made Haru think Rin had hung up, then…

“Haru, it’s Makoto,” Rin’s tone was strangely strained and slightly hoarse, as if regretting each word.

_‘Makoto. Makoto what?’_

“What about Makoto?” Why was his voice shaking? Why was he clutching the phone so tightly? Why-

“Haru, there,” Rin paused again. “There was a drunk driver. An accident. He-” Rin’s voice faltered, as if unable to continue.

Were his ears ringing? It resonated in the entire room, as the heaviness of the phone call sunk in.

“He-” Rin swallowed deeply, before continuing, almost as if he was choking on each word, “He was on the road when Makoto was-Haru…I don’t kn- Makoto- He-”

 Haru cut him off before he Rin could finish his sentence.

As if in a dream, he hurriedly pressed instant speed dial. His mind was spinning; his breath was coming in short hitches. His eyes grew dark; his hands felt clammy; his heartbeat raced faster than he could-

_‘Rin, what are you trying to tell me? What are you saying?’_

_‘No, it’s not true.’_

**CLICK-** The call had CONNECTED!!! His heart beat soared; it flew over the ocean, high in the clouds. Everything was alright, Makoto was---

“Makot-”

_‘Mako-’_

_‘Makoto? You-‘_

**Redial.BeepBeepBeepBeep.**

**Redial.BeepBeepBeep.**

_‘No, please, God, no, please…’_

“Wait. No… Mak-”

_‘Why aren’t you picking up?’_

**Redial.BeepBeepBeep…**

_‘Not Makoto…not Makoto…God, not him…this can’t be true…it’s not real…’_

**Redial.BeepBeepBeepBeep.Redial.BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep.**

**Redial. We are sorry. The number you are trying to reach is not answering. Please try again later.**

**Redial Beep Beep Beep Beep**

_‘Makoto! MAKOTO! MAKOTO! Pick up! Why aren’t you picking up?’_

**Redial Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep**

“No, not -Mako—“

**Redial Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Be----**

~*~*~*~*~

Even now, even after the days that seemed to pass by as if it had been a blur, Haru could still hear that empty dial tone echoing in his ears. With each beat, a part of him seemed to die; subconsciously, he reached into his pocket and fingered the phone that he hadn’t let go since that night. Since he’d sent this fateful message…

Was it a cruel coincidence? Doomed fate? Twisted irony? He’d sent his text at 9: 33 10 seconds.

Traffic cameras had caught Makoto’s car being hit at exactly 9: 33 35 seconds p.m.

A twenty-five second difference. In twenty-five seconds his whole life…

Makoto’s life ended…and he had taken Haru’s life with him.  The drunken driver had swerved out of the corner, without warning, without impulse…he hadn’t stood a chance. In his eyes, try as Haru wanted to erase the image, he couldn’t. He was haunted by the sight of his car turning over and over, imagining his body spinning round and round, no opportunity to defend himself…What must he have been thinking, all alone, when he---Makoto was the strongest person he’d known. He just couldn’t escape death.

Or Haru’s ill-timed message. If Haru could go back in time, if he had the gift of changing the past, he’d gladly give up all the water in the world…just to be with Makoto again. Just so he could wipe away the countless tears that stained Ren and Ran’s cheek; to forget the guilt that swept through him when Mrs. Tachibana hugged him tightly, as she mumbled through sobs, “Thank you for being his friend, Haruka.”

Haru had been anything **_but_** his friend that night.

‘Why did you send the message right then and there?” he hissed harshly to himself once again, almost cursing his fateful decision that night. A fierce gust of wind blew suddenly, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the scarf around his neck. A birthday gift from Makoto… “It brings out your eyes,” he’d said softly, as he had wrapped it gently around him, and then pulled him closer for a chaste kiss. Haru closed his eyes, savoring the memory, the feel of his lips on his, the smell of his deodorant, his murmured ‘Happy Birthday,’ as he’d pulled away, only being coaxed back for more endless birthday kisses. If Haru could live in a memory, he’d choose any of those wonderful intimate ones. From the first kiss to their first meeting; from their first relay to their first victory, everything came rushing back to him. Any, just so he could drown out the moment that was doomed to torment him for the rest of his life.

“Makoto,” he murmured again, cherishing the sound of it rolling off his tongue. That ray of light, that one being who with the tilt of his head and the flutter of his eyelashes that tickled his cheekbones, could stop his heartbeat…had that not been love? Had he been so angry and frustrated that night, he’d refused Makoto the happiness and joy in knowing his true feelings? So much so that he could picture Makoto driving away, his heart breaking in two, trying to reassure himself that Haru maybe hadn’t been himself, that he hadn’t been mentally prepared. That was Makoto; always looking for the best in others. And when he’d received his text message, he must have felt relieved, overjoyed, so much that…

‘Don’t say it,’ Haru cried silently, pressing his hands against his ears, trying to block out the slamming of a truck, the skidding of wheels, and then the screaming silence.

**“WHY?”** he shouted inwardly; weary with grief, he knelt down, still gripping the railing tightly. “How could you take him away from me?” he murmured to the sky, begging for an answer, just as a few droplets of water blinded his vision. Was it rain? Or was it his tears? He couldn’t tell anymore.

**“If you hadn’t sent that message…”** the voice taunted him quietly. **“If you had said what he wanted to hear, if you had-”**

Why had he sent that message? The question echoed in his mind again and again, like a curse. Like a mantra. If only he’d waited, waited till morning to call him, or if he’d simply spoken the words Makoto eagerly yearned to hear, deserved to know. The sentiments he should have reciprocated, the emotions expressed, if only…maybe…Makoto would have seen the truck coming around the corner…maybe his heart wouldn’t have been ripped apart…maybe he wouldn’t have reached for his phone- if there was no message to receive…

“Why did you take him away from me?” Haru asked weakly at the thunderous sky, watching the clouds dance to their own beat overhead. “Why did this have to happen?” he demanded again of the heavens, this time louder, as he felt another raindrop fall onto his cheek. He sighed and pressed his fist to his forehead, as the light shower began to wash over him. The lingering yet fleeting glimpse of his mistake he could never hope to rectify spread around him…

“Why Makoto?” he whispered pleadingly, wishing for a sign-a response.

‘You know why,’ the breeze fiercely cried out to him, the howling rising with impatience. ‘You know why…’

Haru looked around him, longing desperately for a flicker of Makoto’s comforting presence. He absent-mindedly pulled his cell out of his pocket and pressed redial. He brought the phone close and shut his eyes, praying that he would wake up from this nightmare-

_‘Call me Haru-chan, call me anything, Please, call me-’_

**‘We’re sorry…your call cannot be connected. Please try again later.’**

He glanced down; Makoto’s name smiled back at him. It pained. He thought of Makoto. It hurt _. ‘I love you, Haru.’_ It remembered. _‘There’s something I have to tell you.’_ It longed…ached for a second chance.

“If I hadn’t,” Haru whispered through clenched teeth, as he bit down on his lip, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. He gripped the accursed cell phone tighter in his fist, his fingernails digging into his palm, numbing his senses-

**‘If you hadn’t sent the message,’** the rolling tide taunted him.

**‘If you had told him the truth,’** the flash of lightning blinded him.

**‘If you hadn’t sent that message maybe,’** the roar of thunder jeered.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

_Makoto would still be alive…_

Beep…Beep…Beep…

**“SHUT UP!!!!”** Haru yelled at the top of his lungs, his scream piercing the air. With almost a wounded snarl, a pained whimper, an anguished sigh, Haru didn’t want to think any more; he just acted. He stretched his arm back as far as he could, and flung the phone deep and hard into the tempestuous waves. Through clouded vision, he saw it tossed about on the stormy waves, before being swallowed up by the water, and then disappeared swiftly into the depths of the sea. It vanished almost as if were a breath, a whisper, and he let out an involuntary sigh of relief. It felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as the guilt of that night sank with his cell phone, never to torture him again.

And yet, he had to face reality. The truth of the matter…that he would never be there to play video games with him, never name stray cats that wandered so willingly and amiably onto Makoto’s doorstep; never have the luxury to breathe in the freshly washed scent of his shirt; never share a simple ice popsicle with him; never to fall asleep with his cheek resting in the nape of his neck; never to feel his flicker of a smile, graze the bottom of his lip, taste his gentle laugh, watch his mesmerizing movements, touch his calming heartbeat, breathe his voice…his voice…

With a panicky start, Haru was brought back to his senses; he clutched the metal railing tightly. “His voice,” he breathed huskily. Dazed, he brought his hand to his throat, suddenly conscious of what he’d just done. All of Makoto’s recorded voice mails, the words of encouragement before a race, the complimentary good-night murmurs, the simple acts of asking him to lunch…that throaty laugh…those whispering ‘take care, Haru-chan’…on that cell phone…all that was Makoto…

“Makoto-” The thought of losing that one last tangible precious thing that connected him to Haru swept over him. He didn’t wait to think; he didn’t pause to hesitate: he simply moved. He impulsively leaped over the railing, and started running, ignoring the impending storm, the crashing of waves, the piercing breeze. He shakily stumbled over his feet in the rush to move faster, but staggered up again quickly. He kicked off his shoes, ripped off the scarf that brought out his eyes, threw off the jacket that had been suffocating him, and dove head first into the water, just as the rain broke out in a rapid rush.

Freezing cold; that was Haru’s first instinct when he swam into the water, fighting relentlessly against its strong current. Icy needles stung his skin as he swam powerful strokes, anxious to locate his valuable object. A ferocious swell of water swept over his head, pushing him deeper into the sea. Haru quickly resurfaced, gasping for breath, as he scanned frantically for the phone, ignoring the obvious notion that it would be impossible to find.  He fought relentlessly against the rapid current as hard as he could. With deep heavy motions, he waded further into the sea of darkness, kicking his legs vigorously, pushing against the overpowering waves. The rain pounded ceaselessly above him, blinding his vision, but he kept struggling forward against the waves that intended to swallow him up at any moment. He had to try to find it…he had to search…if nothing else, for Makoto. He had already lost him; he couldn’t bear the thought of losing anything more.

So strange; even the ocean intended to keep the two of them apart. The water was resisting him; why? Why couldn’t he reach him?

_The water is alive. The wind is also alive. Once you dive in, it will immediately bare its fangs and attack. But there’s nothing to fear. Don’t resist the water. Don’t resist the wind._

He resurfaced, spitting out salt water, as a bolt of lightning flashed near him, followed by a loud thunderclap. **“MAKOTO!!”** he cried out, shattering the roar of the storm, just before a huge tumultuous wave crashed against him, sending him reeling, drowning out his scream. He sank into the sea, grief overwhelming him, with no strength to fight back.  It was too much. It was just too much. His throat ached; his body ached; his voice ached; ached from repeating his name over and over again, and not finding him. Could his words not reach him? He had to say it; someone had to have heard him. 

  _‘Please…’_ he reached a hand up longingly, as his body drifted aimlessly further down, not having the will, the strength to swim anymore. The desire to resist slipped through his fingers, the phone forgotten.

_‘Makoto, please take my hand-just once more.’_ Why had he never seen how much he’d relied on that support? He searched blindly for those warm fingers to grasp him strongly, pull him closer towards his heart. Why couldn’t he feel it?  The air was slowly leaving him, his conscious gradually slipping away, the darkness overwhelming him, as the distance between him and the sky grew wider and wider.

_‘Am I going to die? Was this how Makoto felt before-?’_

_‘Makoto, please-‘_

_‘Please wait for me…’_

He floated further down, forgetting to breathe, losing the will to survive…

**‘Haru,’** a voice teased gently all around him, embracing him, engulfing him, and drowning him.

Haru’s eyelids fluttered open- _“Makoto.”_ He didn’t dare believe it.

**“You really are the best in the water, Haru-chan…”** And just then, there was that smile materializing before him, like it had never left him. Those hands became so clear in his vision; he could almost seize it…it was just within his hold. His heart soared with relief; he was here, Makoto was here.

_“You’re here,”_ his heart sobbed with relief. _‘Oh Makoto,’_ he wanted to cry out; to embrace him, to hold him so he wouldn’t think of leaving him again, without knowing

_‘Mak-’_ his mind was exhausted from the onslaught of emotion, but now…he had never felt such happiness. _‘You’re here,’_ he thought faintly again, reaching for him. He was saved…The light was glowing, calling him, touching him ever so faintly. He closed his eyes, inching closer to him, welcoming him---

And then, as suddenly as it appeared, the image was shattered; cut through by a strange intruder lifting him out of the sea. Arms that were not Makoto’s; embraced by someone who didn’t have his strength; his warmth; his touch, pulling him away from his comfort, his solace.

_‘LET ME GO!’_ he silently screamed, but his voice was a frail failure. He struggled violently, kicking relentlessly, but the grip on him was too firm, too tight; without loosening an inch.

_‘Please let me go,’_ he pleaded, trying desperately to break free of the hold that was pulling him further and further away from Makoto.

_‘Makoto,’_ he stretched his arm out imploringly. That smile, the tousled hair and that outstretched hand was slowly fading away, drifting away from his fingertips. His hands waved wildly trying to grab some remaining remnant of him, but all he touched was emptiness. The void of loneliness sadly stared back at him, as Haru’s eyes wept with aching pain, his heart drowning-

_‘Makoto-Don’t leave me…I’m sorry…without you; I wouldn’t be living at all…’_

With gasping breath, he and his captor/rescuer emerged from the water; he caught the glimpse of flaming scarlet and shark-teeth, contrasting sharply with the black of night. The storm raged on, swallowing all traces of life in the midst of its thunderous squall, tossing their bodies through the tide.

**“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”** Rin screamed over the roar of the gale, his red eyes gleamed with concern or anger; the fear, the thought of losing someone yet again, etched over his entire face. Haru tore away from him, attempting to break the hold he had on him, but Rin didn’t lessen his vice grip in the slightest. He spun away from him, unable to look into those eyes; the truth evident in his eyes.

“LET GO OF ME,” he protested loudly, coughing with each breath. He struggled against his hands, fought against his hold, but Rin didn’t cave in; instead, he started swimming towards shore with strong kicks, still clutching onto him tightly. There was once a time the water was all Haru could live in; now it was draining the life out of him. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think. He had to get away. The tightness in his throat was choking him; he needed to release, to vent, and just let it out. His heart was tearing apart, slowly driving him insane with pain.

_‘Makoto,’_ he thought miserably, as the waves murmured repeatedly over their bodies, _‘Have I lost you again?’_

**‘Haru-chan…’**

_‘Call me Haru-chan. Call me anything you want. Just come back to me. Say those words again. Say them again; say them again, I need to hear them…’_

**“Maybe I was the only one who thought we were in love.”**

_‘No, that’s not true, let me tell-Makoto, I’m sorry-if I’_

They finally made it to shore, both of them panting loudly and coughing out water. Through the downpour, Haru felt, rather than saw, Rei and Nagisa running towards them, the shadows of Sousuke and Kisumi in the distance, drenched from head-to-toe. His heart felt as if it were about to explode, his breath shaky, his legs throbbing. His clothes clung to him, his wet hair plastered all over his face. Through blurred vision, he saw Nagisa rush towards him anxiously and kneel down beside him. 

“Haru-chan, its okay,” Nagisa comforted tenderly, tentatively touching him, as if hoping to placate his stress. Haru brushed him aside forcefully, his entire body shuddering with the convulsions of suppressed tears. He couldn’t bear to look into those bloodshot eyes and puffy nose reflecting the sadness he was sure all of them were experiencing; but his pain-could they ever understand? His heart felt as if it had leaped up to his throat, suffocating him. He needed to say it; he needed to do it before he would lose himself completely. The salt of the ocean or the salt of his tears stung his eyes; the bitterness of sand or the harshness of life hurt his throat. Haru had to give in…he had to…maybe somewhere-someone would hear his cry.

**“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING**?” Rin bellowed at him, his tone not angry, just worried, and terrified at what he’d just done. The distress at his impulsive actions was evident in the atmosphere, as the wind continued to lash against their bodies; the waves riding higher and higher, rolling closer towards them.

_‘I-’_

“Rin-san, Haruka-senpai,” Rei began soothingly, but Rin cut him off, grabbing Haru by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously, as if attempting to knock some sense into him. Over the snarl of the storm, he yelled, **“HARU, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”**

_‘I-‘_

**“WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO? DID YOU WANT US TO LOSE SOMEBODY ELSE? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? WHAT--”**

**“MAKOTO!!!!”** Haru pulled away from his hold, strands of his hair whiplashing his face. Startled, Rin let go of him, as Nagisa let out a strangled sob over his cry. **“MAKOTO!!!”** he cried out again, and the dam he’d been holding back broke, the tears rolling down his cheeks, uncontrollable, unstoppable, and unyielding. He raised his tear-stricken face upward, clutching forcefully the front of his shirt, as the pain erupted inside, rushing through his body. He ignored the stunned expressions of his friends, witness to his distress, unable to do anything to end his anguish.

**“MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO!”** the name spilled off his lips, as if it were a curse, binding him completely to the agony he was feeling, as if it would forever be chasing after it. His repeated screams sliced the wind, the rain, the storm. It ripped through the heavens as the rain pelted down onto his face, each drop a dagger piercing his soul.

_‘What was **I** thinking? I-’ _

“Makoto,” he sobbed tiredly, his throat raw, as the tears continued to pour. Half-choking, half-weeping, he collapsed backwards, completely exhausted, emotionally drained. He rolled over and buried his face into the sand, ignoring the brittle taste in his mouth; the burning in his eyes, his tears of grief sweeping his entire body. He gasped for air, like a fish out of water; like a soul without a purpose. His body was numb with fatigue, and yet he needed to say it; to confess it. He couldn’t leave it like this any longer; he had to, otherwise-

“Makoto I’m-” he repeated softly, his entire body trembled as the flood of tears flowed onto his chest and poured out in waves without control. His hand curled into a fist digging deep into the ground, as the other clutched the front of his shirt, aching with longing and yearning. The desperation to change reality clung to him; it wished to reach into his chest and somehow find a way to release his burden. Yet, the distress of loss stabbed him from within, over and over again, the memory of his words whispering in his ear, never letting him forget them.

‘ _Say it_ ,' his mind, this time, urged him, pleading with him to confess his heart; as if it was regretting how it had made him behave that night. ‘ _If only you had done it then…’_

_Makoto, I’m—_

**I’m sorry…**

_I never told you how I felt about you._

**_I love you, Haru._ **

**Please come back. There’s something I have to tell you.**

**_Haru-chan…_ **

_I’m sorry…I never said ‘I love you.’_

_Please. I love you. Don’t leave me, Makoto… I love you. I love you, Makoto. I’ll always love you…forever---_

**_I love you, Haru._ **

“Makoto, I love you…” Haru murmured, his voice echoing his heart, speaking his soul. The words fell off his lips, as if it were the last words he ever wanted to speak.

“I love you, Makoto. I love you-“

‘ _Could he say it forever-till the end of time?’_

Through the storm, his declaration- his confession, lingered for a few moments in the air. Then, it slowly and silently drifted over the ocean, into the sky, and up to the heavens. Fleeting and quietly as if…

As if-

It was simply a whisper on the wind…

~*~*~*~*~

_Let me call you sweetheart/ I’m in love with you,_

_Let me hear you whisper/ that you love me too._

-Paul Zindel “LET ME HEAR YOU WHISPER”

**Author's Note:**

> ~Liked it? Let me know. Disliked it? Let me know. This was my first foray into the tumultuous waters that is MakoHaru. I am no where nearly as skilled as the extremely talented and incredibly gifted writers that have contributed so much to the FREE! Fandom. You know who you are, of course! Honestly, their work is so daunting and immeasurable; I can’t even begin to compare. The entire time I was writing this, aside from being petrified, I kept thinking, “What if they vote me of the island?” Still, I wanted to share something of my own. Reviews/criticism greatly appreciated. Kudos is a bonus, if it’s possibly worthy, that is. I’m still learning how to swim in the MakoHaru waters, so I sincerely hope I live up to its name~ Again, thank you very much for reading.
> 
> Also, this final quote is from a teleplay I remember reading in my 8th grade literature book years ago! Ironically, it’s about a dolphin, and re-reading it, inspired me to write this angsty fic! If you haven’t had a chance to read this rather painful short teleplay, I strongly recommend it. Well, that’s just me…
> 
> And if anyone’s interested or enjoyed this tragic fanfic, I have one all planned out in my head from Makoto’s POV. So, if you wish to read it, leave a message in the comments section, and I’ll see what I can do! Unless, I’ve seriously failed at this, so I’ll just retreat into my corner and comment on those exceptional writers who KNOW what they’re doing…


End file.
